by Kate James
“I appreciate the offer. I’ll consider it.”
“You should also know Private Laurence’s body has been repatriated. There’s a funeral planned for next Thursday.”
A short while later, they walked out together. Shaking hands, they said goodbye.
Emma promised to think things through and get back to Daniel. It was the most she could give him for now, but she suspected there was only one decision she could ultimately come to. She didn’t see how it would be possible, but Daniel seemed to believe that she might be able to provide the missing piece to the puzzle. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she noticed in her rearview mirror a dark sedan following her. She kept an eye on it until it slowed and took a right turn a few blocks away from the diner.
She hissed out a breath. She hadn’t even agreed yet to try to help Daniel, and she was already jumpy and imagining things.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMMA FELT AS if a jackhammer was in full throttle at the base of her head as she merged onto the highway. She called Josh on his cell phone to let him know she was on her way and would discuss her meeting with Daniel with him when she got home. The drive passed quickly. As she parked in front of her cottage, she’d already resolved what she had to do for her own peace of mind.
She and Josh spent a quiet evening together, taking the dogs for a walk and checking on the progress of the fawn.
The next morning, Emma advised Daniel of her decision.
The following day, a large box of files arrived at the cottage by special delivery. Daniel provided Emma with copies of all his research notes and other relevant information he had been able to gather, for her to go through to see if anything jumped out at her that might be useful to their cause.
Emma sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the fireplace in the great room with the files Daniel sent spread out in front of her. Next to her were two legal pads—one blank, and the other with her own personal notes from her previous work with Senator Morgan. She tried to decide where to start and what to look for, when Theo gave a friendly woof and scrambled to his feet to run to the front door. Max, lying on the floor close to Emma, opened one eye before deciding sleep was more important than greeting whoever had arrived. When Emma opened the door, Sherri stood on the porch, a large cloth tote in one hand. She gave Emma a one-armed hug.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working today?” Emma asked.
“Hey, I’m entitled to a day off now and then.”
Emma stepped back and let her friend in, but gave her a skeptical look. She knew how much Josh relied on Sherri.
“Okay, the truth is, my mother and I were scheduled to have a spa day today, but she had an emergency at work and couldn’t take the day off. Since Josh had already arranged for Jenny—the girl who fills in for me when I’m off—to cover for me, I thought I’d take the day anyway and do the next best thing to having a spa day with my mom. I brought what we need,” she said, hoisting the tote. “You and I are going to have a spa day right here! What’s all this?” she asked, gesturing to the files on the floor as they walked into the great room.
“It’s a long story,” Emma said as she gathered the folders into a pile and placed them on a side table.
Sherri eyed the stack of folders. “If I’m disturbing you, just say so and I’ll go.”
“Oh, no. I’m glad you’re here.” Emma checked her watch. “I had to stop anyway to feed Daisy.”
Sherri placed her tote on the table and rubbed both dogs. “Who’s Daisy?”
“Didn’t Josh tell you about her?”
“No.”
“Come with me and I’ll introduce you. It’s her feeding time.”
Emma filled a baby bottle with the milk mixture she’d prepared from the recipe Josh had given her, and led Sherri out to the shed. Letting Daisy into the outside enclosure, she observed happily that she was moving much better and no longer seemed lame.
“You have a fawn?” Sherri asked in surprise.
“For now.” Emma crouched down and held the bottle out for Daisy. She walked over cautiously, but then eagerly accepted her meal.
“You really do have a soft spot for animals, don’t you?” Sherri observed and squatted down beside Emma. “You know, Josh and I have talked about setting up some sort of facility to be able to accommodate injured wildlife.” She glanced over to the shed and around the temporary fenced area that Emma had erected with Josh’s help. “This sort of setup is ideal.”
“Then why hasn’t he done it? He’s got the space at his property.”
“We always have domestic animals coming, going and staying at the clinic. Josh is concerned about the impact all those animals and associated noise would have on wildlife. If the goal is to release them back into the wilderness once they’re healed, having them become too comfortable with domesticated animals—and, for that matter, people—could be problematic. Max and Theo don’t bother with the fawn, when she’s outside in the pen?”
Since Daisy finished her bottle, Emma rose. “No. They showed some interest when they first saw her in the enclosure, but not much since.” Daisy bent her head and tested some of the grass. “She’s cautious around them, which is a good thing. The plan is to release her once she can fend for herself, and I don’t want her to consider wolves as playmates.”
Sherri wandered over to the shed and stepped inside. “What do you use this space for normally?”
“I use it mostly for gardening tools and equipment. The canoe and kayak are in there over the winter months. I don’t park my vehicle inside, which is what it was built for by the original owners.”
“Hmm. Josh would need inside pens and a more securely fenced outside area to accommodate multiple patients. I’ll have to speak to him about it again.”
The rest of the afternoon passed with pampering and girl talk, something that Emma wasn’t accustomed to, but found she enjoyed with Sherri.
After Sherri left, Emma felt relaxed and mellow, and she had to admit that her skin had a nice glow from the facial.
She had a light dinner, then checked on Daisy, and inspected the shed with a more critical eye. It was spacious and open, with lots of natural light flooding in through the large windows at either end. She had no idea how often Josh had to deal with injured wildlife, but if he needed someplace to keep them—and someone to look after them—she suspected it would be fairly easy to convert the space.
In the evening, Emma resumed her review of the files. A soldier was dead, and she had to see what she could do to make sure that if Morgan had knowledge of the issue with the rifles, he would be held accountable.
How could he live with himself, she wondered, if he had known?
Emma turned to the next page and sighed. Some aspects of the information were harder to grasp than others. The file she was reviewing was technical in nature. It included the results of the independent testing of a sample of the rifles. She didn’t understand all the details related to the properties of the metals, weld thicknesses or the manufacturing process.
Absently, she rubbed at the stiffness at the base of her neck and flipped to another page. With some relief, she noted it was the final page of the report commissioned by American Freedom Munitions. She scanned the remaining technical information but reviewed the conclusions section more carefully. She knew that when the military had commissioned additional tests, and that they were conclusive. There was an inherent problem with the rifles that could result in catastrophic failure upon discharge. The two sets of test results—those done by the military and those conducted by AFM before the shipments were released—were contradictory. Did that mean that not all the rifles were flawed, or could the AFM tests have been wrong or falsified? At least the military was, naturally, taking matters very seriously and were doing everything they could to get all the rifles back. Certainly no others from AFM were being issued
to soldiers.
And if Morgan knew about the problems with the rifles before they were shipped, how could they prove it? Her gaze dropped to the date below the signatory line on the final page of the report. She squeezed her eyes shut in horror at the realization that the tests had been completed nearly a month before the first shipment of rifles left for Kabul. Had they known?
If they had known, had the test results been falsified, and the rifles still shipped?
She turned back to the front of the AFM report. It was authored by Grant Stewart, a materials engineer who’d been retained to undertake the testing. The transmittal letter indicated it had been provided to Jack Hughes, the CEO of AFM.
Daniel had suggested that the chair of the board of AFM, Chuck Innes, and Hughes were both aware of the flaws, which made sense. But what about Morgan? Would Morgan have known as well? Daniel seemed to think so. To her, it wasn’t a given.
The contract was awarded to AFM. Morgan was paid for his involvement in making it happen. Why wouldn’t it have stopped there? Could Innes or Hughes let Morgan know that they were having trouble? Maybe they asked for more time, and Morgan wouldn’t allow it?
Emma reread the summary of findings. When she got to the end once more, she focused on the name of the engineer typed below the large, scribbled signature. Grant Stewart.
She stared at the name a few moments longer, but it didn’t jog any memories. With a shake of her head, she closed the file and rose from her chair, taking her empty mug with her and placing it in the dishwasher.
She’d known AFM had tested the rifles. Senator Morgan had gone on at some length to tell her and Richard about it when they’d first been retained. He’d given her a copy of the test results, in case the media asked any questions. As she thought back to the conversation, Morgan had encouraged her to provide copies to the media if she considered it in his best interest. In hindsight, she questioned why he would’ve been so insistent about her having the report. He’d shown no reservations about the test report making its way into the public domain.
It was in the public domain already, he had assured her. As such, she hadn’t needed to return her copy to Morgan’s office when she’d terminated her contract. Her boss at Tyson, Myers and Smith had been so furious with her when he couldn’t talk her out of dropping Morgan as a client, he’d fired her in such haste, the company never bothered to get the documents she had at her home office back.
She searched her memory. Did she keep the copy or did Richard have it? She hurried into her office and rummaged through her old files.
Before she had a chance to determine if she had it or not, the dogs alerted her once more that someone had arrived. She dropped the file on the coffee table on her way to the door.
This time, it was Josh...holding a bakery box from Chadwick’s, Winston by his side.
Emma accepted the box from him. The scent of fresh pastries made her mouth water. “They smell delicious.” With her free hand on his chest, she rose up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. “Thank you.”
He leaned in and sniffed playfully at her neck. “Mmm, you smell nice. Not that you don’t always, but this is something different.” He ran a finger along her cheek. “Smooth. Again, not that that’s not usually the case, but there’s something extra today.”
Emma chuckled. “You can thank Sherri.”
“Sherri? I thought she had a spa date with her mother.”
“She did. When that fell through, she brought the spa to me.” She led him into the kitchen, where she arranged the pastries on a plate. She snagged a chocolate éclair and held the plate out to him. “Would you like one?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks. I had an early dinner after my last appointment. Other than the spa treatment, how was your day?”
She placed the plate on the counter and covered it. “I got the files from Daniel today,” she responded.
Josh followed her into the great room. “I can see that. Your rug is barely visible under all of it. Have you found anything?”
She shook her head as she swallowed a bite of the pastry. “Mmm. This is delicious. As for the files, I’m just getting started.”
“Can I help? With the files?”
She shrugged. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I’m looking for, so I don’t know what you could do.”
“A fresh pair of eyes might do some good.”
“It’s worth a try,” she said as she brushed the crumbs off her fingers with a napkin. She settled cross-legged in the midst of all the files. Smiling up at him, she handed him a folder, while placing another on her lap. “Good point. Personally, I’m going to work through the files chronologically. See if anything jumps out at me.”
“Sounds like a plan.” With the file folder in his hand, he opted for comfort and sprawled on the sofa.
Josh paged through, looking more for impressions or something out of the ordinary. He paused to stretch, then turned to a series of photographs that he surmised had been taken by a high-powered zoom lens from a considerable distance. He recognized Senator Morgan immediately, as well as Mark Lemus, his aide, from the various media segments he’d seen.
He leafed through the pictures once, then started over. On closer scrutiny, he recognized several other leading political and business figures as well. There were a series of pictures that appeared to have been taken at someone’s summer home on a lake. The senator and his aide were featured prominently in the photos, both dressed casually in khakis and golf shirts. One shot showed a group of people on a large deck leading to a dock with an impressive boat tethered to it. The senator stood on the bow with his aide and another man. The senator was smiling broadly, a drink in one hand and his other on the back of the diminutive gentleman beside him, giving the impression that the photographer captured him in action as he was jovially slapping his companion on the back. Josh scanned the other faces in the picture, some distinct, others blurry due to their distance from the camera’s focal point.
When nothing struck him as being of relevance, his gaze shifted to examine the boat. Having a personal fondness for fast boats, he appreciated its graceful styling and what he knew would be a powerful engine. Inspecting the picture more closely, it looked to him that the boat had been customized, probably at considerable expense. As he gave the boat one final appreciative glance and was about to flip to the next photo, something caught his eye. He focused on the boat again. Its cabin, to be precise.
He could distinguish two men standing by the window inside the cabin, one taller and heavier set than the other. They both held drinks in their hands and, based on their posture—tense and leaning in toward each other—they appeared to be in deep conversation.
Josh’s eyes narrowed as he examined the image of the two men. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he thought he recognized the taller man.
At Emma’s sigh, he glanced down at her. She’d placed the file she’d been reviewing on the floor and was rubbing her temples with her fingertips. He knew the frustration of not finding anything helpful despite the hours invested was taking its toll on her. He set aside the file with the photos and rose.
Lowering himself down behind her, he started to massage the knotted muscles of her shoulders.
“That feels wonderful,” she murmured. She closed her eyes, as he continued kneading her tense muscles.
“It seems it might be long overdue.”
“Better late than never.” She rolled her shoulders. “I can almost feel the stiffness melting away.”
As he started to work on the base of her neck, she let her head drop forward, giving him better access.
“Mmm, my headache’s nearly gone, too.” She twisted to look at him. “That was nice. Thank you.”
He brushed his thumb under her eyes. “You look tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well, knowing wha
t happened and being unable to do anything about it.”
“You’re trying. That’s all anyone can ask.”
“I suppose,” she said, but she didn’t sound convincing.
They decided to call it a night and took the dogs out for their evening walk. A myriad of brilliant stars twinkled overhead and the moon was nearly full, guiding their path along the driveway. On their way back, Emma paused on top of the large granite boulder that afforded a panoramic view of the forest, cottage and lake. Josh wrapped his arms around Emma from behind, and she leaned back against him. Gazing out over the water, she asked, “Have you ever had a place that just felt right to you—calming, comfortable?”
He glanced down at her. “In your arms?”
She laughed. “Thanks, but I’m serious. You know, a place where you could sit and think, and feel all was right with the world?”
He smiled as he considered. “I suppose the closest thing would’ve been the tree fort I built in my family’s backyard as a kid. When the weight of the world was on my skinny eight-year-old shoulders, I would climb into the tree fort, read my comic books, play with the games I had hidden there, or simply sit with my feet dangling over the edge and look out over our backyard. Whatever had been bothering me—my parents grounding me for some transgression, a kid at school bullying me, whatever—would simply melt away. Is that the sort of place you mean?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly it. I was just thinking that this place, this rock under us, is that type of place for me. Since I’ve owned the cottage, whether I have something on my mind that I need to work through or I’m happy, this is where I like to sit and deal with it. I find it impossible to look over the field, the gardens, the cottage and the lake, and be in a bad mood. If there’s nothing specific on my mind, I can just as easily sit here and let my mind wander, absorb the beauty around me.”